


Fix You

by Gabriel_Is_My_Guardian_Angel89



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Acquaintances, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, M/M, Multi, Nightmares, No Wincest, Platonic Bed Sharing, Polyamory, Slow Burn, Symptoms of Depression, TFW 2.0 being total softies, Tags to be added, Trauma Recovery, mentions of anxiety attacks, platonic Jack Kline & Reader, rated for later chapters, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:48:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27660919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabriel_Is_My_Guardian_Angel89/pseuds/Gabriel_Is_My_Guardian_Angel89
Summary: After being kidnapped and tortured by demons for months, Sam, Dean, and Castiel manage to rescue you. Bringing you back to the bunker, you find yourself on the slow road to recovery, sparking new bonds along the way.
Relationships: Castiel (Supernatural)/You, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/Reader/Cas, Dean Winchester/You, Destiel, Jack Kline & You, Sam Winchester/You, Team Free Will (Supernatural) x Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53





	Fix You

**Author's Note:**

> This is not my typical kind of fic, I know, but I was trying to come up with some ideas for my poly and Dean bingo squares, this came to me and wouldn’t leave me alone… There will eventually be Destiel to some extent, but no Wincest, Jack is only involved in as much as a close friend become family member, no romantic involvement. I really hope you guys like this opening, this could easily become a 5-6 chapter fic, depending on reader interest…

**~PROLOGUE~**

It had been four months since you had been rescued from the demons that decided to toy with you for months on end, Castiel bursting into the filthy hovel of a dungeon they’d been keeping you in with a shower of dirt and metal, closely followed by Sam and Dean Winchester, the pair of them helping you up after Castiel had broken chains manacled to your wrists. You had teamed up with them on a few hunts over the years, but you were more than surprised to find yourself being helped out to Dean’s car, arms slung over each brother’s shoulders, a trail of dead demons sprawled out before you. In a million years, you never would have banked on them being the ones who would come running to your aid. 

**THEN**

Apparently, after not hearing back from you for three weeks, Donna had spent at least six weeks searching for you herself before hitting a dead end and calling upon the Winchesters for help. Donna had always been like a sister to you, long before you got into the hunting business, and she had, according to Sam, been half out of her mind when she finally came to them. Sam had managed to hack into your laptop and cell, but even then it took months of going through demon after demon before finally finding the ones who had captured you, nearly a week of torturing one black-eyed bastard before it gave up where they had hidden you away.

After calling up Donna to let her know you were safe, Dean offered to bring you back to the bunker with them, so you could get yourself back together somewhere where you would be better protected. After a wordless nod, he had gunned it back to Kansas, the highway passing you by in a blur as you huddled against the window, your arms wrapped tight around your middle, your mind still struggling to process the past half hour. By the time the four of you had made it back to the bunker, the only progress you had made was drawing your feet up on the seat, your head pressed to your knees, arms now wrapped around your shins instead of your torso. 

When Sam opened the car door for you, you could barely move, and honestly, you didn’t know if it was from exhaustion and lack of strength, or if you just didn’t care to. Seeing your dilemma, Sam picked you up carefully, one arm braced around your back, the other winding under your knees as he cradled you against his chest. You slung an arm weakly around his shoulders and leaned into him as he carried you down the stairs into the bunker, letting the warm scent of him surround you. You were only vaguely aware of Dean and Castiel following behind as Sam walked through the bunker, finally stopping to set you down in one of the leather chairs in the library.

You remember that first night at the bunker, Sam disappearing only to return a minute later with a glass of water. You drank it slowly, your throat dry and cracked still from all the screaming you’d done the past few months. Castiel had given you a once-over, his hand warm and gentle as he let his Grace heal your physical wounds before pulling away, his eyes sad and kind. He then insisted that you try to eat some food as soon as possible. The demons hadn’t fed you nearly as often as you would have liked, sometimes days passing without a crumb. You knew you had to be severely malnourished by this point, Heaven only knew how much longer you would have even lasted had you not been saved. 

The night progressed with Castiel and the two brothers, now joined by Jack, the latest addition to their little family, fussing over you; Dean scurried off at one point to prepare a room for you, Sam and Jack left and came back with a plate of plain bread and a bowl of fruit, keeping the fare light and simple, something your confused stomach would be able to keep down, Castiel a reassuring presence by your side the entire time. 

You hadn’t said a single word the entire time, your mind still half-frozen in some weird limbo as you watched them flurry about. You tried, your mouth working to thank them, but, nothing. You gave up trying after the third failed attempt, opting to just offer up a tight smile from then on. Dean eventually rejoined you all, and he and Sam explained how they had been able to recover your stuff from the motel you had been staying at before you had been taken, how they had gone about trying to get to you sooner. You smiled gently at them, shaking your head dismissively. 

Eventually, exhaustion began to win out, and Dean hurried forward from his seat to help you when you tried to stand on shaky legs, his arm winding around your waist as he pulled you close against his side. The others all bid you goodnight as Dean led you down the hall to your bedroom, easing you gently onto the mattress before leaving you to your rest. He had assured you that he and Sam were both just a few rooms away, and that Jack and Castiel would be up, should you need anything. You nodded up at him and sat up as he turned and left, closing the door behind him. 

You looked around, spotting one of your duffle bags on the floor by the bedside table. Pulling the bag over to you, you opened it and rummaged through the clothes and pulled out the old oversized shirt you usually slept in. Castiel had Graced away all the dirt and grime when he had healed you, leaving you feeling clean, but after months in the same flannel shirt and pair of jeans, you desperately needed to change into something comfortable. As you stood carefully to pull down your pants, you felt a pang of sadness at the loss of your favorite pair of boots; the demons had taken those from during one of their earlier torture sessions and were never seen again. Your panties joined your jeans in a pile on the floor, your shirt and bra soon following as you felt another wave of exhaustion wash over you. You pulled on your sleep shirt and crawled under the covers, reaching over to turn out the light. Your head had barely hit the pillow before sleep claimed you.

It didn’t last long though. That first night was also the first time you woke up with a scream dying on your lips. Sam had been the first to hear you, bolting to your room like a shot, his gun raised and ready through decades of instinct, not lowering until he realized you were safe. That it was just a nightmare. You woke to his hand gently shaking your shoulder, the lamp on, his eyes narrowed with concern as he stared down at you. It took you a minute for the world to catch up to you, the horrific images fading behind your eyes as your heart thumped in your chest. You sat up slowly as Sam straightened up, tears pricking your eyes as you tried to calm down.

He assured you it was just a nightmare, that everything was okay, you were safe. You tried to respond, but again your throat clenched against the words, a mangled sob working its way past your lips in its stead. You couldn’t understand why you weren’t able to speak, it made you feel so weak and helpless, there was nothing physically wrong with your vocal chords, you’d even heard the tail end of the shout you’d made as you woke. So what the hell was wrong with you. You couldn’t stop the tears that slipped past your eyelids as you buried your head in your hands miserably, another sob wracking through you. You felt the mattress dip and found yourself being tugged into Sam’s warm embrace, one hand wrapping around you as the other ran soothingly along your arm. 

He stayed like that until you calmed down, your sobs trickling away to soft sniffles, his voice a soothing litany of reassurance in your ears. Eventually, you relaxed against his side, eyelids heavy once more after exerting your remaining energy with your embarrassing sob-fest. As you drifted off again, you were vaguely aware of Sam easing you back against your pillows, and the softest brush of his lips against your forehead before he left.

The following night, you awoke once again with a scream on your tongue. This time, it was Dean who woke you, his eyes sad and his expression tight with worry as he quickly sat on the bed and pulled you into his arms, your head tucking under his chin as the sobs began again. He paid no mind to the tears dampening his shirt as he held you, murmuring gentle words of comfort, his hand soothing along your side, telling you it was okay, just let it all out. He, too, stayed there until you managed to fall back asleep. Another kiss pressed to the top of your head.

Sometimes it was Castiel who got to your room first, pulling you into his lap and letting his Grace wash away any other nightmares that might be waiting in the wings after you fell back asleep, accompanied not by a kiss on the forehead but a soft cupping of your cheek, his thumb smoothing away lines of worry that knitted your brow. Sometimes it was Jack, with kind words and his hand brushing over your hair, his face open and innocent, like a child doing their best to make their friend smile again. He would give you a warm hug once you had recovered from your nightmare, ask you if you needed anything and retreat quietly from your room when you shook your head no. 

Things seemed fine during the daytime, surrounded by the four of them as they went about their tasks. They had all told you not to worry about feeling embarrassed or to think you were being a bother. All had offered to lend an ear if you needed to talk, and you knew you should, you  _ should  _ talk about everything that had gone on while you were stuck chained up in that dungeon for months on end; if only you could find your voice. Slowly, you recovered, physically at least. Sam helped make sure you got plenty of healthy meals to counterbalance the malnutrition issue brought on by months of sporadic feedings; Dean had even picked up a bunch of vitamins and supplements during a supply run for you, and was usually the one to remind you to take them. 

For weeks life went on this way, nightmares waking you in the dead of night almost every night. You began to wonder if the guys had set up a schedule on who would take up...well, guard duty, you supposed, as you always woke to find you weren’t alone. One of them was always there for you, each with their own set routine to help you settle back to sleep for the night. Still, you were unable to speak, even to offer up the thank you you so desperately wished to utter. Even when they caught wind of a case, they made sure that at least one of them stayed behind with you, your strength still not up to par enough to chance a hunt. 

For two months life had gone on this way, the only differences being that now Sam no longer frowned at Dean when he would slide some extra bacon onto your plate at breakfast, and Castiel had announced that you were well enough to start building your fighting strength back up one day after giving you one of his angelic check-ups. As time passed though, you began to feel a shift, the friendly kindness of the three men giving way to a softer kind of care and attention. Castiel’s lingering touch when he would check up on your health, the brothers seeking your quiet help with menial tasks like cooking and research; an all around increase in the amount of time they spent around you. 

You found yourself wanting to be around them more, too, rather than spending hours at a time alone in your room when they weren’t actively searching out cases. You would join Sam in the gym or on the gun range, slowly getting yourself back into the swing of things. Found yourself joining Dean and Castiel when they retreated to the Dean Cave for a lesson in Cinematic Western History, at first opting for the LA-Z-Boy and eventually settling between them on the couch, feet tucked up under you as you leaned against one or the other. It was a calming change, and slow enough that you barely noticed it. The way the brothers would offer you one of their shirts when you had nothing to wear on laundry day, the way the pastries you’d shown a proclivity towards were always set out at breakfast. Little things that filled your heart with a pleasant warmth, and on one or two occasions had you fighting back soft tears as you wished yet again you could find your voice.

There were bad days as well, of course. Days when you couldn’t find it in you to pull yourself out of bed, when you needed to be reminded to eat, or take your vitamins. One particularly bad day when you collapsed in a fit of tears in the library, a wave of uselessness washing over you, rendering you unable to stop the way you shook as you cried. The four of them ran to you, Dean scooping you up in his arms and sitting in the leather chair with you curled up in his lap, his hand running soothing circles down your back until your tears ran dry. They never showed any annoyance at your setbacks, were never anything but understanding when you needed their help. 

One night, about nine weeks after your rescue, you found yourself in Dean’s arms after a rather horrendous nightmare, one of the worst you’d had yet. Your head was tucked under his head like usual, your hand clenched in the fabric of his shirt as he held you close, the warmth of him surrounding you. As your sobs quieted and your breathing began to even out, you felt him shift beneath you, his body turning to set you back among the pillows. You felt your breath hitch on a gasp, fear clutching your chest at the realization that he was about to leave. 

Nine weeks. Nine weeks of silence before you finally found the strength to speak again. 

“Dean”, you rasped out, your hand still clutching at his shirt as he stilled. Your voice sounded foreign in your ears, gruff and raw and desperate. “Will...will you s-stay?”


End file.
